


Flipped and Awkwardly Reversed

by harlequin421



Series: We've Got a Big Mess On Our Hands [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Scent Marking-sort of, Torture-sort of, Underage Drinking, Wall Sex-Rutting, dub/con, season one, slow-ish build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequin421/pseuds/harlequin421
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott getting bitten by a werewolf didn’t only change his life; it brought a sourpuss of a creeper werewolf into Stiles life who doesn’t seem to understand the concept of personal space or that windows aren’t doors, or you know, manners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.1-1.4

**Author's Note:**

> Moments from Season One between Stiles and Derek. Stays mostly in canon. My first contribution to the Teen Wolf fandom. No beta. All mistakes are mine.

_**1.1: Wolfmoon** _

So maybe Stiles took way too much Adderall, because he had to be hallucinating right now, because Stiles was pretty sure that  _Derek Hale_ could not be standing in his bedroom, because that would be weird.

Beyond weird. Like a weird that Stiles wasn’t used to, like wolves in California, and Scott saying that he has super hearing.

“Genim Stilinski. Age 16. You prefer to go as Stiles. The Sheriff’s only son. Your mom died around three years ago. Tragic accident.”

Stiles flinched.

“Um, A+,” he answered because he didn’t know what else to say other than demand why Derek was in his room, and the guy was intimidating enough that Stiles wasn’t going to question it.

Stiles couldn’t be sure that Derek had actually sighed and rolled his eyes because it looked so out of place. He looked back at Stiles and Stiles swore that his eyes shone blue for just a second.

So there was a possibility that all of this could just possibly be a dream. Stiles was pretty much asleep at his desk when he heard his window creak slightly.

“Is there another reason you’re here? Other than to loom creepily and tell me stuff about myself, which is pretty stalkerish by the way. Is this retaliation for Scott and I trespassing on your property? Because I swear I didn’t know, and this is a bit excessive. My window was shut for a reason.”

If this was a dream, and Stiles was pretty sure that’s what it was, then maybe he could get an answer out of Derek as to why Scott believed he had super powers. Maybe Derek was playing out the part of his subconscious, which was weird, but made sense in a sick sort of way.

Of course Stiles subconscious would choose someone as intimidating as Derek to portray itself.

Maybe Stiles shouldn’t have eaten the cold pizza that his dad had left over for him in the fridge.

There was a growling sound almost like a rabid dog, and Stiles looked back at Derek because he had spaced out for a second there, and Derek was much closer than he was before, and he had a five o’clock shadow, and for some odd reason Stiles felt the urge to touch it.

That is until he realized that the growling sound was coming from Derek.

Derek stepped back as though he could feel the fear that was suddenly overwhelming Stiles.

He made his way over to the window, before stopping and turning back to Stiles, “Your lycanthropy theory isn’t really that far off.”

And before Stiles could make sense of that, Derek was out of his window.

Stiles just shut down his computer and walked over to his bed. He threw himself down on it, and went to sleep.

The next day when he got home from school after the lacrosse game and was starting to put the horrifying pieces together, he realized that the window was still open.

So maybe Derek hadn’t been a figment of his imagination, after all.

\----

Stiles was tired. He was beyond tired. He was tired with a capital T. Tired  _Tired._ All he wanted to do was crawl under his covers and sleep for the next century, or you know after noon tomorrow.

But today hadn’t really been his day, so why should it surprise him that Derek freaking Hale would be lurking in the shadow of his room between his bed and the door.

Except it does.

And he would have screamed, if he wasn’t suddenly becoming very intimate with a wall and had a  _furnace_ pressed against him with its hand across his mouth.

Said furnace just glares at Stiles, and Stiles is suddenly fearing for his life.

What if there was a werewolf thing that stated that only werewolves could know and that non-werewolves had to be eaten? Who was going to help Scott if Derek killed him? _Derek?_ Like that was going to work out well for anyone. And what if Scott decided to get his head out of the Allison-shaped clouds and wanted to avenge his murder? Then what? Maybe Stiles’ Dad and Ms. McCall would turn to each other for support. And ew, now he was thinking about his dad and sex, and really, he just needs to stop _thinking._

Derek steps away after giving him another threatening look that makes Stiles heart skip several beats before thundering in his ears.

“Please don’t kill me,” Stiles is impressed that his voice came out as steady as it did, because his insides sure weren’t.

Derek looks at him some more like he’s considering tearing his throat out with his teeth, but just steps two more steps back and raises his arms in the universal sign of non-threatness, “I’m not going to kill you.”

There is a  _yet_ attached to that sentence in Stiles head, and it makes his heart skip another beat.

Derek looked like he wanted to sigh and roll his eyes, but he settled for giving Stiles another glare, this one less I-want-to-rip-your-throat-out and more you’re-an-idiot-and-I-don’t-understand-why-I-have-to-put-up-with-you, which was more offensive than scary because, hey! He happened to be a great person; in fact he was amazing, because he still wasn’t freaking out as bad as he thought he would.

And there was a growling werewolf standing in front of him.

A growling  _werewolf._

Derek Hale was a motherfucking werewolf!

How cool was that?

Derek looked at him weirdly for a second, before shaking his head, “Listen. Scott is still out there, and he’ll probably need a ride after what just happened. Just be sure that the moon is completely gone before you go after him like a lunatic, because I have things to do and can’t be bothered to make sure that he doesn’t rip your throat out.”

Stiles took more offense at that, because he’d read the lore, he knew what was going on. He wasn’t the complete idiot that Mr. Derek I’m-so-cool-with-my-leather-jacket-and-werewolfyness-and-am-obviously-above-you-a-mere-mortal Hale was making him out to be.

He just crossed his arms across his chest, “If it’s so dangerous for me to be around Scott right now, then why are you here?”

Derek just glared some more as if that would make Stiles forget about the question and stalked back over to his window. He threw him one last glare and jumped out.

If Stiles didn’t know better, he’d think that Derek was worried about Scott killing him.

Huh.

_**1.2: Second Chance at First Line** _

“I thought I told you not to let him play in that game!”

And really Stiles had been expecting this because for one, he was partially responsible for Derek going to jail, two, he had taunted the werewolf while he was in a cage, well the back of a cop car, but that was irrelevant, and three, he had let Scott play the game because he had been under the impression that Scott could control himself in the field, but that had been a vain hope torn and thrown away in the wind, kind of like what little there had been of Derek’s reputation.

So he wasn’t all that scared, well maybe a little scared, but he wasn’t all that surprised to find himself pushed against the lockers with Derek looming over him and glaring in his face. This glare was definitely of the I’m-going-rip-your-throat-out-with-my-teeth variety, throw in a dash of and-then-I’m-going-to-feast-on-your-innards and you were all set.

“I couldn’t really force him out of the field not with Coach hovering over him like his most prized possession, and no one even noticed that he shifted! And he ran away and calmed himself before he could hurt anybody! So doesn’t this count as a win-win situation?”

Derek  _snarled_ , and Stiles managed to somehow back into the lockers more than he already was. He felt the adrenaline from worrying about Scott spike up again and his heart pounded in his throat. He’d already been almost eaten by a werewolf this week! He did not need this again!

Derek’s snarl was a bit different this time, “Scott attacked you?”

And shit, Stiles really needed to learn to keep his thoughts inside of his head. He shook his head quickly, his brain flashing, damage control, DAMAGE CONTROL, but Derek just pushed in closer, “I can tell when you’re lying, idiot!”

Stiles shook his head again, “He didn’t attack me! He just sort of chased me, but I took care of it!”

Derek stepped back away from him letting him go, and it was only by a miracle that Stiles knees didn’t buckle under his weight.

Stiles watched as Derek closed his eyes and seemed to be looking for some sort of inner peace, and Stiles wished him good luck with that because he was pretty sure there was no part of Derek that was peaceful.

He turned to maybe flee while he had his eyes closed, but Derek’s hand slammed against the locker denting the metal a little and preventing Stiles from escaping. And wow, werewolf strength was something that he did not want to test out ever.

“Since it looks like you’re going to be hanging around for a while, and you’re incapable of the basics of self-preservation here are a couple rules that you should follow when dealing with a werewolf. Rule One: Don’t. Run. Away. Werewolves like to chase their prey. Rule Two:  Keep at least one object made of silver at hand at all times. Stings like hell. And Three, and this is the most important one: Stay inside on the full moon. Got it?”

Stiles wanted to protest and tell Mr. Derek I-can-intimidate-you-with-a-glare-and-therefore-think-I’m-allowed-to-give-you-orders-and-rules-to-follow Hale that he was not a little princess and that he could take care of himself whether or not he believed it.

But the glare and the way the metal was giving into his hand told Stiles that Derek wasn’t going to accept any other answer.

“Got it.”

Derek gave him this terrifying smile and pushed away from the lockers, “Good. Glad we had this chat. Next time do as I say, and we won’t have this problem.”

He turned around and left, and Stiles slumped against the lockers and looked to the side to see that Derek’s hand was imprinted into the metal of the locker. He gulped, and pushed off the lockers making his way out of the school and back to his car.

_**1.3: Pack Mentality** _

Stiles picks up his phone absentmindedly figuring that it’s his dad since Scott is out on his “group date” and he’s the only other person that ever calls him. Besides his doctor, but at nine at night it’s either or.

“Did you know that there are over one hundred different types of aconitum and seven hybrids that occur in the natural world? And it’s not only used to create poisons, there are medical uses and things like that. I thought that it was only good for pissing off werewolves.”

He laughed because it was a joke, a joke that his dad would’ve smiled at before shaking his head and telling him that he was going to be late and to not bother making him dinner, again.

But the growl that sounded over the phone was definitely not dad-like but more Derek-like, and Stiles briefly wondered how it was even possible for someone to glare at you over the phone.

“Why are you looking up the uses of Wolfsbane?”

Stiles felt a twinge in his back from the lack of impact whenever Derek spoke in that tone to him. Maybe they should conduct the rest of their hopefully brief acquaintance over the phone. God knows that it would do wonders on Stiles back.

“Research!” Stiles says happily. “What did I do this time? Why are you calling me instead of sneaking in through my window and threatening me in person? How did you get my number anyway? Was it Scott? Or did you find it when you were looking for the information about my life to throw at me, which is still creepy and stalkerish by the way. You’re lucky that Scott believes that he needs you for something or I would’ve ratted your werewolf ass to my dad a long time ago.”

Derek made this noise over the phone that spoke of the amounts of dead that Stiles would be if Derek were in the room with him, and it made Stiles smirk because that was sort of the point.

His back twinged again and this time it was in anticipation of  _future_ pain.

He heard Derek breathe deeply and was about to ask him if this was part of his creeper act where he called underage boys and breathed into the phone like a pedophile, when Derek speaks again, “Just tell me where I can find a mechanic that can fix my car window right now.”

“What happened to your car window? And how do you expect me to know where to go? It’s nine at night! Everything is probably closed. Though Dave might make an exception if I ask nicely and promise to bring May cookies the next time I visit. She loves the ones with the chocolate chips on the top instead of inside of the cookie and absolutely adores the sugar cookies I make at Christmas. I cut them up like Santa, and Snowmen, and Jingle Bells, and she giggles while she eats them it’s the cutest thing that I’ve ever seen.”

“Stiles!”

Stiles jumps because Derek’s voice practically breaks his ear drum and it sounds exasperated like if he had called his name out more than once.

“Focus, and tell me where this mechanic is.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “His name is Dave, and he’s my neighbor. I’ll call him and tell him you’re coming through. But you have to promise me something.”

“What?” Derek almost shouts again, and Stiles wondered if Derek could feel him judging him over the phone.

“Promise me that you won’t hurt Scott.”

There was silence for a few seconds and then Derek scoffed, “Fine, whatever. But if he comes after me, I will defend myself.”

“And that’s good enough for me!”

Stiles hung up before Derek could and he looked down at the number before saving it under the emoticon for a grumpy face and calling Dave.

\----

Stiles was never one to push his car to the limit, but Scott had appeared in his house looking drained and his clothes almost in tatters and he was crying and mumbling about alphas and betas and packs and being a part of someone else’s pack, and that  _Derek didn’t bite him_ , but he sure as hell kicked his ass to kingdom come.

And really Stiles had thought that he could at least trust the guy to keep his word, not break his promise not even three hours after he made it.

The tires screeched as he slammed on the breaks right in front of the Hale house, and he muttered a quick apology to his baby before getting out of the car and stalking up to the door. Derek, of course had to already know that he was coming, appeared in the door way looking as impassive as ever but his clothes were all dirty and covered in dust and Stiles felt an odd sort of pride well up in his chest because even though Scott was drained and passed out on top of his bed, at least he’d manage to give as good as he got.

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought you promised you weren’t going to hurt him! Does your word mean nothing to you? Are you just full of empty promises and burnt down memories? Because if _that’s_ how you’re planning on helping Scott and if  _that’s_ what you mean when you say that he needs you, then maybe you should just pack up and go back where you came from!”

It was only after Stiles finished his rant and was taking deep breaths, did he notice that Derek was breathing harshly, and he was clenching his fist at his sides, and he looked at Stiles and his eyes were flashing blue, and oh, Stiles was going to be werewolf chow now wasn’t he.

Maybe he didn’t really think this whole driving over here to yell at Derek, who was a werewolf and could most definitely rip his throat out  _with just a flick of his wrist,_  all the way through.

He took one step back, and was close to just turning and bolting when Derek said through clenched teeth, “Stay. Right. There.”

Stiles froze and tried to calm the way his heart seemed to want to crawl into his throat and beat the rumba into his esophagus.

After a few minutes, Derek finally looked up and his eyes were back to their normal green color.

“Do you seriously lack a self-preservation gene? Who the hell thinks it’s a smart idea to go ahead and poke at something that could  _rip your throat out?_ ” And his voice which was stiff cut off in a growl. He closed his eyes shaking his head and glared at Stiles, “Go away, before I actually do rip your throat out. And talk to your friend properly, before making stupid assumptions.”

Stiles didn’t run, because unlike Derek thought he did have a self-preservation gene thank you very much. He backed away slowly, and got into his car, and hightailed out of there.

His heart beat didn’t calm down until he was back in his room lying down next to Scott.

_**1.4: Magic Bullet** _

It wasn’t that Stiles was worried.

He was totally not worried.

Whoever was worried it was not him.

He couldn’t stress the fact of how not worried he was. He was so not worried that he was lying back in bed and just looking at the ceiling and thinking about maybe jerking off, because that would be a sure fire way to get him to sleep.

Not that he was having any trouble sleeping or anything, because he wasn’t worried.

He looked down at his phone again to see that it was nearing midnight and still no word for Scott or Derek, because apparently spending the day stuck inside a car with him and almost having to  _saw off his arm_  was not a valid reason to let someone know that you were okay.

Stiles had read up on werewolf healing abilities and he knew that they were ridiculously fast healers, but what he didn’t know was how a werewolf would be after nearly dying from aconitum poisoning. What he didn’t know was if a werewolf could bounce back easily from that, could just get up and leave without seeming to be in pain when just a few seconds ago he was writhing on the floor like some really attractive zombie.

Not that Derek was attractive. He was aesthetically pleasing in the same way that Stiles found Danny aesthetically pleasing, but he’d never touched his dick and thought about Danny’s abs the way he thought about Derek’s just a few seconds ago.

Not that Stiles was attracted to Derek, and not that he was worried. He just wanted to know that he was okay, because then who else was going to throw Stiles against walls and threaten him?

And it was a testament to how weird Stiles life had gotten recently that he felt like if he would miss Derek’s growl.

Curious what someone almost dying would do to someone else’s perception of them.

Not that Stiles was worried.

But maybe he was.

But just a little tiny bit.

It wasn’t even worth mentioning.

 Just like the fact that Stiles thumb had hovered over the little grumpy face emoticon for a few minutes before he chickened out and tossed his phone across the room, and repeated the process about five times before he lay back on his bed and decided that he wasn’t worried about Mr. Derek I’m-just-going-to-leave-you-here-and-go-with-your-best-friend-to-some-secret-place-and-not-even-thank-you-for-keeping-me-alive-or-even-let-you-know-that-the- aconitum-poisoning-would-have-no-more-effects Hale, wasn’t worth mentioning.

It was also a testament to how weird his life was now that the light screech of his window opening didn’t even faze him.

But he did feel all of the tension drain out of him, because at least now he knew that Derek was okay.

That is until he heard the thump of something falling on the floor. He sat up in his bed, and looked to see Derek struggling to sit himself up and once he managed it he leaned against the wall his head falling back against the window sill.

Stiles walked slowly over to him because the last time he was around an injured werewolf said werewolf was threatening him with bodily harm if he didn’t cut off his arm.

And then Derek whimpered. Honest to god whimpered, like an injured puppy and Stiles somehow turned into a puddle of mush right by his feet, “Are you okay? Of course you’re not okay. Is this to do with the aconitum, or is it something else? Did you and Scott go do something stupid after you almost died from aconitum poisoning? Or did you forget that you  _almost died?_ ”

So maybe Stiles had been a little more worried than he had originally thought.

Derek just looked tired, like if he didn’t have it in him to glare Stiles into submission, and that was a really scary thought, “What do you need me to do?”

Derek looked at him and half smiled, “Nothing. There is nothing I need you to do. Just go back to sleep. I’ll leave once I get the feeling back to my legs.”

“What happened?”

Derek looked like he didn’t want to talk about it, “Just pushed myself too far. Aconitum poisoning is a bitch. It hinders the healing process, so it makes it more difficult to heal from it.”

Stiles reached out and wrapped his fingers around Derek’s ankle, “If you needed to rest, why didn’t you just go home?”

Derek gave him a confused look, like he didn’t understand the words that were coming out of his mouth, and Stiles figured that maybe he didn’t, maybe the Wolfsbane in his system had affected him more than he was willing to admit even though he looked like death warmed over. But at least he didn’t look or smell like he did earlier today, when he was nearly dying. So Stiles just counted this as a win, and stood up.

He reached out and grabbed Derek around the biceps and tugged up. Derek apparently, got with the program because he got to his feet, because there was no way that Stiles would’ve been able to help him up without any help. The guy was heavy, and he leaned most of his weight on him as Stiles lead him over to his bed. He let him fall on the bed, and Derek let out a grunt.

Stiles didn’t apologize. He just threw his sheet over him, “Just be gone before my dad comes and wakes me up in the morning.”

Derek grunted again.

Stiles pulled the sleeping bag that Scott usually slept in whenever he slept over and laid back on the floor looking up at the ceiling.

He fell asleep listening to Derek’s breathing, and when his father came to wake him up in the morning he was tucked into his own bed.

He figured that was as much of a thank you as he was going to get.

 


	2. 1.5-1.8

**_1.5: The Tell_ **

Stiles was eating his lunch in the library. One of the good things about being friendly with his neighbors was that they totally had his back when he wanted stuff, and Mrs. Jay, who was the school librarian and also loved his sugar cookies at Christmas, let him eat in the library during lunch whenever Scott missed school.

He took a bite of his sandwich and tried texting Scott again, but no answer.

He growled at his phone.

“That’s a pretty impressive growl you got there.”

Stiles almost choked on his iced tea. He took another swallow and turned to Derek who had somehow in the last two seconds sat down right across from him and was wearing this smirk, like the cat that ate the canary.

“What’s got you so happy?”

Derek’s eyes widened a bit, almost in alarm, and then he set back to his default expression: glaring, “What makes you think I’m happy?”

Stiles raised his hands in defense, “Statement retracted. What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t high school’s a part of your restricted zone?”

Derek glared a little bit harder.

Stiles smiled and took another bite of his sandwich. He looked at Derek, who was still glaring but at least he’d transferred his glare to Stiles’ sandwich as though it had personally offended him, and took another sip of his iced tea.

“But seriously, why are you here? It can’t be to see me. And Scott isn’t here.”

Derek looked back at him, “I saw that you were with your dad last night at the video store.”

Stiles nodded, “Of course you did. Do you make it your hobby to stalk me, or is it something you’re doing professionally?”

“I’m not stalking you,” Derek hissed. “I was following the Alpha.”

Stiles leaned forward, “So it was the Alpha at the video store?”

Derek gave him a look of the you-cannot-be-this-stupid variety, “Obviously. What does your dad know?”

Stiles shrugged, “Just what Lydia’s and Jackson’s statement say which was that they didn’t see anything. But I doubt that. Jackson is way too jumpy for someone who didn’t see anything, and Lydia is AWOL and we had a pop quiz in Algebra today.”

“I already talked to Jackson, and he is denying it to his grave. But he’s lying. He did see something.”

So that’s why Derek looked so smug before. He had been threatening Jackson. Stiles allowed himself a small smirk at that.

“Can you talk to Lydia?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, “I can try. I was already planning on going over there after school with the work she missed today.”

The smirk from before was back, “Oh. You have a thing for Lydia.”

Stiles just gaped at him, “How could you possibly know that?”

“Hormones,” Derek says looking like he wanted to roll his eyes and say duh, like if Stiles should know these things.

“How does that work?”

Derek just shook his head before standing up and planting his hands on the table leaning down until he and Stiles were face to face, “You should really quit while you’re ahead.”

And then he left.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Stiles demanded from the thin air.

\----

It wasn’t the first time since they’ve met Derek Hale that he’s looked at all the information his father had on the Hale fire.

But it was the first time that he looked at it with intent.

He had to keep his mind on something other than the fact that both Scott and Derek had ignored his calls and that he just destroyed the only viable piece of evidence that they had.

Secrecy was important, he got that, but he wished that he had talked to one or the other about it, because what if they needed a picture of the Alpha for a summoning ritual or something equally ridiculous and likely to be possible because this was his life now, and things that weren’t possible are now totally possible. What with werewolves and Wolfsbane being something that actually worked, anything was possible.

Just like it was possible that the fire wasn’t as accidental as everyone thought. Because this was the Hale House! There were records that it had been inspected by an electrician just days before the fire. If there had been a problem with the wiring, how did no one catch it?

 _Possible Arson with no evidence_ , did not a good case make.

He barely even looked up when he heard his window opening. He just sighed and continued to read through the papers because he was going to give both Scott and Derek the silent treatment and they could both deal with it and that was that.

“Stiles,” and Derek’s voice was a bit faint, and devoid of the usual bite it had, that Stiles looked up alarmed thinking that maybe the reason Derek couldn’t answer was that he was hurt, and saw that Derek wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Shirtless.

Derek Hale was shirtless.

_Shirtless._

And in his room.

Derek Hale was shirtless _in his room_.

How was this his life? Really?

He scrambled to his feet and headed to his closet to see if he could find a shirt that was big enough, and maybe while he was in there he could give a stern talking to his libido and ask it when it decided that they were bisexual because Stiles wasn’t even aware that this was a development.

He grabbed one of his dad’s older shirts that fit him a little bit big, but would probably be snug around Derek’s chest and fucking broad shoulders, and his fucking biceps and the abs, can’t forget about the abs.

Maybe this was more of a jealousy thing than a sexual thing.

But then he walked out of the closet to see Derek laid out on top of his bed after having shoved all of the papers on the floor with his head buried in Stiles pillow, and maybe it was a sexual thing.

He cleared his throat and walked over, and seriously how could someone’s back be that attractive? Was there any part of Derek that wasn’t attractive?

Not that he was attracted to Derek, just he had eyes, he knew when someone was attractive, and Derek was certainly pleasing to look at.

“Are you quite done objectifying me now?”

Stiles jumped and looked away from the tattoo on Derek’s back and to his growly face. He threw the shirt at him, and knelt down on the floor to pick up the papers.

“Why are you looking at the information for the Fire anyway?”

Stiles looked back at Derek relieved that he put on the shirt without making a fuss, “Just trying to see if it could have anything to do with what’s going on now. Because electrical fires are sudden yes, but they could usually be contained. And possible arson means they must have found a trace of something that was suspicious but couldn’t identify it.”

“Let me save you the trouble then,” Derek says standing up and walking back over to the window. “It was arson.”

And then he was out the window, once again leaving Stiles with so much more questions than answers.

**_1.6: Heart Monitor_ **

_I’m going to need your help._

Stiles stared at the text incredulously, and resisted the urge to call ‘grumpy face emoticon’ mainly because he was in class but also because he was probably not going to pick up, not after saying those six words.

_So this is how you ask for help? Via text message instead of slamming me into a wall and threatening me with bodily harm if I don’t?_

A few seconds after the message was sent Derek answered back, _Would you prefer it if I slammed you into a wall and ripped your throat out?_

And there was the Derek he knew and barely tolerated, _Nope! All good here. What do you need help with? Is it research? Because I am ace at research. Or is it something more personal? Are you on your wolfy time of the month, or is that only a full moon thing?  Did you kill someone? I am not helping you bury a body! So don’t even ask!_

Stiles leaned back in his seat and looked at the time. Scott still hadn’t come into the class and there were like two minutes before the bell rang, not that he cared or anything.

He looked down at his phone as it vibrated in his hands, _How is it possible that you’re long winded over text messaging? And no, it’s none of that. Listen there is something that I need to do. I need you to help Scott at least get some semblance of control by this afternoon._

Stiles bit his tongue, _I’m not talking to Scott. Why can’t you help him with that?_

The answer was almost immediate, _Because I am busy! Just get him to control himself when he gets angry, and stop with the petty fighting, it’s immature._

 _You’re immature,_ he texted back and stuck his phone in his bag.

Scott walked in through the door and headed for Stiles.

Damn.

He still wasn’t going talking to him, no matter what he said. No matter what Derek said.

And that was final.

**_1.7: Night School_ **

This time Stiles didn’t even waste the energy that it required for him to deny to himself that he was worried about Derek.

Probably because when he tried to go to sleep the first time all that happened was that he saw the Alpha, the big as a truck freaking _wolf_ , claw into Derek’s back making him spurt blood out of his mouth. And the claws were massive because Stiles saw them pierce all the way to the front.

He was even more worried because when they had left the school, there had been no body. No evidence that Derek Hale had even been there.

That meant that Derek could still be alive.

But if that was so then that also meant that he was badly hurt and the cops were looking for him.

He was going to end up in jail, again.

Stiles was biting on the end of one of the strings on his hoodie and he was reading through his chemistry text book when there was a tap on his window.

Weird. Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have been so weird because Scott would’ve been throwing stones at his window to get him to sneak out so they could do something stupid and dangerous. But ever since the werewolf thing, and Derek using it as his personal door, it was weird to hear a tap at his window.

He walked over carefully, because they had just been attacked by the Alpha who wanted Scott to kill them, and he really needed to invest in some sort of werewolf repellant. But when he looked out his window it wasn’t Scott or the Alpha. It was Derek leaning against the tree in his backyard and getting ready to throw another pebble at Stiles window.

Stiles gaped rather unattractively because Mr. Derek I’m-going-to-use-your-window-as-my-own-personal-doggy-wolfy?-door-and-there-is-nothing-that-you-can-do-about-it Hale wasn’t using his window as his personal wolfy door. He had actually done something polite, like knocking, and that was when Stiles became sure that Derek was dying, again.

Derek dropped the pebble down and waved weakly at Stiles.

Stiles stared some more before realizing that if Derek was knocking it probably meant that he didn’t have the energy to do the werewolf thing and jump on his roof and in through his window.

So dying, again.

He made gestures to Derek to wait right there, like if he could move he wouldn’t already be in Stiles room, and rushed down the steps almost braining himself on the door in his rush to open it, and running across his backyard where Derek was still leaning against the tree, and up close he could see the blood still around his mouth and chin, and shirt, and he was breathing shallowly and didn’t werewolves heal like super-fast?

“Wounds from an Alpha take longer to heal,” Derek says and he sounded out of breath by the time he finished the sentence and Stiles looked down to his chest, and yeah Alpha claws would’ve ripped right through his lungs.

“How are you even standing?”

Derek half smiled at him and it looked sort of fond, and that scared Stiles more than any of the glares or the threats.

“Oh my god, are you going to die?”

Derek shook his head, and coughed, and spit up blood.

Stiles let out a breath and grabbed his arm and threw it over his shoulder bracing himself when Derek leaned heavily against him. He stumbled up to his room. It took about twice as long. And Derek looked about ready to pass out the second that Stiles set him down on his bed.

“Wait!” Stiles says reaching out and keeping him in a sitting position. “Take off your jacket and shirt, they’re bloody. I’ll get you something from the closet.”

Stiles grabbed another one of those slightly big shirts that he doesn’t wear but that his dad insists on giving to him because he doesn’t want to throw them out. He walked back over to Derek to see that the guy had taken off his clothes but he was covered in blood.

Stiles made a wait a minute gesture and hurried to the bathroom. He grabbed one of the small towels and filled up the bucket that was under the sink with some warm water, before grabbing the first aid kit that was under the sink too, just in case and hurrying back to his room.

Derek just watched him blankly, “I would push you into the shower, but I’m afraid that you’ll pass out in there.”

He set the first aid kit on the floor along with the bucket and dunked the towel inside. He wrung it out and looked at Derek thoughtfully for a second, “Do you want to do this part or…?”

He trailed off not exactly sure how to finish the question, and Derek just closed his eyes before saying, “You do it. But start at my back. I think the wounds are still open.”

Stiles nodded slowly and gulped. He grabbed the first aid kit and walked around his bed climbing it from the other side and kneeled behind Derek. The wounds were still open, but they weren’t bleeding anymore. They looked like deep surface wounds that should require stitches, but Stiles just wiped away at the blood until it was clean and opened the first aid kit grabbing the antiseptic. He sprayed and saw Derek tense his shoulders. He mumbled an I’m sorry, before grabbing the antibiotic ointment and spreading it across the wounds.

He figured that all of this might be completely superfluous, but it made him feel better that he could do _something_ and Derek wasn’t exactly protesting or anything. He was just breathing shallowly and Stiles figured that it hurt to talk, or that maybe his lungs were still healing.

He put gauze and taped off the area before letting out a breath and closing the first aid kit. He slid off his bed and set the kit aside before grabbing the towel and putting it in the bucket moving it around to get rid of the blood that he’d clean from his back, and wringing it.

The water had turned pinkish already. He stood in front of Derek and wiped at the blood on his chest before tilting his head back and wiping at the blood on his chin.

He swallowed and felt his heart beat begin to race because Derek was looking at him in a way that he had never done before. It was intense, like if Stiles had all of his focus. And there was something in it that made something squirm in the pit of his stomach.

And suddenly, he wanted to be a lot closer.

Before he could do something completely insane, and stupid like hug him or climb on top of his lap, he threw the towel in the bucket and grabbed it before grabbing the first aid kit.

He walked to his bathroom and set everything down on the floor before looking at himself in the mirror and freaking out. Because he almost hugged Derek or something, and that was bad. Because hugging meant that he’d touch Derek and there some small part of Stiles that he’ll never admit out loud that exists (he can barely admit it to himself) that knows that if he touches Derek Hale, he won’t be able to stop.

He shut his eyes and tried to stop thinking about _touching Derek Hale_ by thinking about something else other than the fact that he was injured and currently taking over his bed and his life.

He threw the water out into the bathtub watching as the blood stained water swirled down the drain. He placed the bucket back under the sink after rinsing it lightly and put the first aid kit in too. He grabbed the towel and cleaned it as best as he could. It still looked pinkish but it didn’t scream _question me! I wiped away blood from Derek Hale’s incredibly muscled back!_

And now really wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. Not when Derek was in his room, on top of his bed, again.

He hung the towel to dry on the towel rack, and walked back to his room. He was expecting Derek to be passed out on top of his bed, or at least lying back.

But no.

He was still in the position that Stiles had left him in.

Stiles walked closer and suddenly he had all of Derek’s attention again. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward and like if all the air had been sucked out of the room, “Um, do you need me to do anything else? Does being hurt make you hungry? We have left overs or I can make something. Cookies are out of the question because it’s too late, and I don’t have all of the ingredients, but I’m told I make a killer grilled cheese sandwich.”

Derek just continued staring at him with these feverish eyes, and Stiles suddenly got worried. What if he had a fever?

He got closer intending to just check his temperature and then maybe push him back on top of the bed and cover him with his sheets, because he looked like if he could use some sleep, but all of that was pushed out the window and rolled down the drive way to be trampled by oncoming traffic because Derek reached out and suddenly Stiles was straddling his lap, hands on his chest, and Derek’s face was buried in his neck.

And was he, _sniffing him?_

There was definitely some intake of breath going on there. And it sort of tickled Stiles neck, and it made him squirm, and suddenly he realized that he was hard. He tried to pull back, but Derek let out a low growl and tightened his grip around his waist, and Stiles tried to stay still, “Um, Derek?”

Derek made a noise and rubbed his face into Stiles neck taking deep breaths and leaving behind what was probably going to be some epic stubble burn.

“Can you let me go?”

Derek was still for a second before he shook his head, and was that _tongue?_

 _Derek’s_ tongue on his _neck_?

 _Licking_ at his Adam’s apple?

It had felt so good that Stiles absentmindedly rocked down on him biting down on a moan, and Derek stilled under him.

“Sorry,” Stiles yelped. “I can’t help it! You’re licking at my neck, and all that. It’s a natural reaction.”

Derek didn’t let him go. He just tipped Stiles over until he was sprawled on the bed and then Derek was sprawling over him, arms wrapped around his chest, one leg thrown over his and his face stuck in his neck. He nosed right behind of Stiles ear and whispered, “Go to sleep.”

And then he opened his mouth and bit lightly at the end of Stiles ear.

Stiles shivered and opened his mouth to say something but Derek cut him off again, “Go to sleep.”

And his lips trailed down the side of Stiles’ neck and he was rubbing his mouth on him and breathing out, “Are you going to keep doing that if I fall asleep?”

Derek made a whiny noise like if he couldn’t believe that Stiles was being difficult. Stiles just let out a breath, “I’ll go to sleep, if you stop doing that.”

Derek huffed against his throat and nosed down tugging on the collar of his shirt and then he was biting down on his collar bones, sucking on the skin.

Stiles gasped and tried to scramble away, because this was heading into that territory that he wasn’t ready to admit to himself that he actually wanted to explore. Derek just tightened his hold, and then pulled his mouth away making a slight popping sound.

He sighed and inhaled again making a satisfied noise that rumbled through his chest before nosing behind Stiles’ ear again and staying still, “Go to sleep, Stiles.”

Stiles just nodded shakily and he closed his eyes deciding to ask Derek all about this tomorrow morning.

When he woke up, Derek was gone.

**_1.8: Lunatic_ **

Scott tipped Stiles over into his bed, and Stiles giggled, because he was back in the one place that he had been avoiding being in for the last two days. He had taken to sleeping in the living room telling his dad that he’d just fallen asleep watching TV. But he knew that they both knew that that was a lie, and Stiles also knew that his dad was bidding his time before he could corner him and get all the information out of him.

And Stiles really didn’t know how to tell his dad that the reason he didn’t want to sleep in his room was the wanted murderer that he was chasing after.

“Dude,” Scott says turning him over and looming over him like a looming thing. Kind of like Derek actually. Was that part of Werewolf 101? How to loom over unsuspecting humans properly?

Scott looked like if he had said something and was waiting for Stiles to answer, but Stiles just smiled and reached out to poke Scott’s cheek.

Scott rolled his eyes and placed the waste bin by his side, “Just in case you need to throw up.”

Stiles waved at him and looked at his hand waving it back and forth in front of his face because it looked as though he had more fingers than five.

Scott just patted his head, “Get some sleep, okay?”

Stiles nodded again smiling and watched as Scott left his room via Derek’s doggy door.

He threw himself back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

He wished now that he had kept the plastic glow in the dark stars that his mom had stuck up there. She had formed the constellations and would lie down right beside Stiles and point them out and telling him the story for each one, and Stiles would fall asleep right on her shoulder dreaming of touching the stars.

He closed his eyes and then thought about the other persons that slept in his bed with him and it reminded him that he was mad at Derek. Stupid Derek Hale with his stupid bulging muscles, and stupid broad shoulders, and stupid fucking abs, and stupid face, with those stupidly perfect cheekbones, and his stupid mouth that had been all over Stiles neck like if necking was something they did in their spare time, and it wasn’t! Stiles would’ve remembered if he was hooking up with someone like Derek Hale.

He hadn’t seen Derek for two days.

The guy practically gropes him, leaves a pretty impressive looking hickey and just disappears like a rabbit inside of a magic hat.

What was up with that? What was up with any of it? As far as Stiles knew, he and Derek were barely even friends. And he was under the impression that Derek barely tolerated him.

He sighed and let out a breath.

And then he began to laugh because he remembered the look on Coach’s face when Scott had run out of the stalls naked with Danny at his heels twisting a towel to smack him on one of his ass cheeks. That had been the highlight of his week.

Besides having Derek in his bed sucking on his neck.

How was it that everything lead up to being about Derek?

Ever since Scott had been bitten, Derek had somehow taken over his life, and not in that good way where there were orgasms involved, no it was in that way where Stiles was sexually frustrated fifty percent of the time and the other fifty just plain frustrated.

He let out a growl and got more comfortable in his bed.

And then his eyes snapped open, because that was a chuckle. Someone gave a throaty chuckle, and Scott had to have been home by now, so that only left, “Derek.”

He opened his eyes sitting up and there was Derek leaning against the window sill, looking particularly yummy all in black and as if he had been plucked straight out of a fangbangers fantasy except that he was a werewolf and not a vampire.

He giggled and then said Derek’s name again stretching the two e’s and then throwing himself back on top of his bed smiling stupidly at the ceiling.

There was a sound and then there was Derek looming over him, like Scott had been, “Is that something that they teach you in Werewolf Finishing School? How to loom properly? Does it also cover how to stalk someone professionally and be a really fucking attractive creeper?”

Derek tilted his head at him and then shook his head, “You’re drunk.”

It wasn’t a question, but Stiles nodded anyway, “Pretty wasted. My best friend was heartbroken so I took him out for a drink. Only werewolves can’t get drunk.”

He looked at Derek for conformation, smiling widely when he nodded. Then his smile dropped slightly as he remembered the last time that Derek had been in his room. And Derek seemed to sense the shift in his mood because he had begun backing away. Stiles sat up swaying a bit, and reached out to grab Derek’s arm.

“Wait!”

Derek seemed to freeze. He let out a breath and looked pleadingly at Stiles as though begging him through eye-power alone to not start this conversation.

But Stiles didn’t pay attention to that. The leather of Derek’s jacket was really soft, and it just reminded him that Derek had almost died not even three days ago. His fingers tightened on his sleeve, “You could have died.”

Derek let out a breath, “But I didn’t.”

Stiles shook his head, “That’s not the point. The point is that that was the third time you came to me when you were hurt. Why do you do that? Do you think I enjoy seeing you in pain? Do you get a kick out of it? Do you think I could bear to have you die on me when my mom…?”

And at that point Stiles choked off, and took deep breathes because he was not going to cry. No he couldn’t. He was supposed to be strong, for his dad, and for Scott, and for _Derek._

Derek pulled his hand away, and Stiles stifled a sob that wanted to break out. Derek kneeled beside his bed right in front of him and looked at Stiles until Stiles looked back. And if Derek looked a little bit blurry it was because he was drunk and not because he was crying.

Derek reached out and wiped his cheeks because the traitorous tears had fallen and framed his face in his warm hands, “You’ll probably end up forgetting this tomorrow, but if I don’t tell you now, I probably never will.”

Stiles frowned confused, and opened his mouth to tell Derek that he wasn’t that drunk.

But he was.

And anyway, Derek’s thumb began stroking over his bottom lip in a distracting manner, and he lost that train of thought.

“I come here to you whenever I’m hurt because you smell like pack. You smell like Scott and you smell like me, and there’s the smell of you fresh and clean and innocent, and all of that is soothing to me. And the fact that you actually care, and you worry about me, it permeates from your skin and it’s like a salve for my wounds. When I was younger and I would get hurt, I would grab Laura and my mom and make them lie down with me until I was feeling better. I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing until the other night.”

Stiles nodded his head slowly as he remembered the other night, particularly the part where Derek’s lips had been against his throat.

“Is that why you,” and Stiles lifted his hand to his shirt and tugged at the collar to reveal the fading hickey on his neck. Derek’s fingers slipped down and he thumbed against it and nodded his head slowly, “That’s part of it yeah.”

“What’s the other part?” Stiles whispered as closed his eyes against the sensations flooding him, and then felt himself tip back. He heard the ruffling of his sheets and made a noise in protest when Derek tucked him in.

He opened his eyes, barely, and Derek reached out and pressed his fingers against his temple, “Go to sleep, Stiles.”

Stiles shook his head, and Derek just slid his fingers down his face and his thumb grazed his lips and Stiles thought about licking at it, and he must have done it because Derek took his hand back like if he had been stung.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

Stiles nodded and shut his eyes surrendering to sleep.

When he woke up in the morning, he didn’t remember that Derek had even been in his room.

Just a faint dream that he couldn’t quite grasp and a tingling sensation on his lips.


	3. 1.9-1.12

**_1.9: Wolf’s Bane_ **

“And why can’t he stay with you?” Stiles whispered fiercely trying to convey with his eyebrows why it was a good idea for Derek to hide out in Scott’s house.

Scott just gave him the look back, “Because my mom works the late shift tomorrow! And she’ll be home all day! And you know that she gets bored and starts cleaning up the house which includes my room! At least your dad respects your privacy and doesn’t just go into your room!”

Stiles was about to argue that his dad was the Sheriff and that trumped any argument ever, but Scott suddenly looked fierce and he mumbled, “And besides my room doesn’t reek of Derek like yours does.”

Stiles gaped at him for a second before turning around and forcing a smile on his face as he looked at Derek who was leaning against his car and glaring, because he did hear their entire conversation even though they were several yards away from him like the creeper that he was.

Stiles absentmindedly rubbed against where the hickey had faded on his neck and didn’t miss the way Derek’s eyes followed the movement. He dropped his hand back down and cleared his throat walking towards him, “So I guess you’re rooming with me.”

He tried to infuse the words with as much enthusiasm as he could but he knew that it fell painfully short, because even Scott was looking at him oddly.

He cleared his throat, “Well now that that’s settled I’m going to head out. Try not to kill Stiles.”

Derek made a dismissive gesture, and Stiles wanted to yell that he was more afraid for his virtue than dying. And that was just really sad.

Scott left and Stiles stared after him trying not to telegraph _come back._ He turned back to Derek who was staring at him blankly and then he pushed off the car and made his way over to the driver’s seat. He opened the door, “Get in the car Stiles. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

And there, that was admitting. And admitting something was the first step to recovery.

Stiles ran over to the car opening the door and sliding in. Derek gave him a look and then turned on the car, and Stiles had to hold on to something as the tires screeched and they sped down the road.

Now Derek wasn’t afraid to _drive_ his car. Stiles barely resisted the urge to whoop out loud, as it was his heart beat had accelerated and he could feel the adrenaline tingling against his fingertips making him breathless. He smiled widely and looked over at Derek who was looking at him and not paying attention to the road. Derek’s lips curved into a genuine smile and not that smirk he usually used to convey amusement, and Stiles felt breathless all over again.

Stiles looked away resisting the urge to blush and coughed, “Shouldn’t you be looking at the road? If you wrap your car around a tree, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to come out of that as unscathed as you.”

He sneaked another look at Derek to see that he had turned back to the road but was still smiling. Stiles allowed himself another smile and leaned back against the seat feeling comfortable for the first time tonight.

He looked over at Derek again and became distracted by the way his thumbs were tapping some beat against the steering wheel. It took him a few seconds to realize that the beats coincided with his heartbeat.

He opened his mouth to say something and then Derek’s thumb swiped instead of tapped and Stiles suddenly had a vivid fantasy of Derek brushing his thumbs across his lips.

And then he realized that that had actually happened and he looked away from Derek clearing his throat, “You went to see me the other night when I was drunk.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Derek looking at him before looking back at the road, “Yes.”

“What happened?”

And Stiles felt a spike of fear at the words. Not that he was worried that Derek had done _something_ to him while he was incapacitated, but he feared what had come out of his mouth. Under normal circumstances he could barely keep every thought that flashed across his head, but inebriated? His brain to mouth filter became obsolete. What if he had told Derek something about that stupidly insane borderline suicidal _fascination_ he had with Derek? Or even worse the fact that he’d been having sleepless nights just researching the Fire and trying to tie someone to it because he _needed_ to know why Derek was the way he was?

Stiles didn’t realize that Derek had stopped the car, until Derek was suddenly reaching out to him and pulling him until they were pressed forehead to forehead and he muttered, “Breathe.”

Stiles took deep gulping breaths because he hadn’t even been aware that he had stopped breathing.

Once he got his breath back he scrambled away from Derek his face flushing.

Derek turned to the steering wheel and gripped it tightly, “I didn’t do anything to you.”

Stiles nodded his head slowly but didn’t move from his spot, “What did I do?”

Derek looked at him confused before shaking his head, “Nothing. Neither of us did anything.”

Stiles relaxed a bit, “What did I say?”

Derek moved so that he was leaning against the door and looking at Stiles, “You asked me why I come to you when I’m hurt.”

Stiles flushed again and raised his hand back up to where the mark was.

But Derek kept talking, “I told you it’s because you’re pack.”

Stiles looked away from Derek like that would make the words make any sense, but they didn’t.

“I’m _what?_ ” Stiles wasn’t proud of the way the last word squeaked slightly.

Derek ran a hand down his face, “It’s a wolf thing.”

Stiles shook his head, “No, you don’t get to do that. Not when you _marked_ me okay?! So tell me what it means.”

Derek just looked at him, and kept looking at him. And Stiles just made a noise in frustration, “Is this some sort of hurt syndrome thing? Do wolves feel better after cuddling? Shouldn’t you be cuddling up with Scott then? He’s more part of your pack than I am.”

“No,” Derek says shaking his head. “It’s not a hurt syndrome thing. It’s like,” he broke off and looked away from Stiles as if he could find the answers outside of the windshield.

Stiles tried to wait patiently. His foot began shaking, and he started to bite on his bottom lip before he nixed the idea and put the end of one of the strings of his hoodie into his mouth gnawing on the plastic tip.

He waited for a whole minute before he slumped back in his seat, and started tapping the beat to _Hungry like a Wolf_ on his leg. He took a moment to appreciate the irony before Derek started speaking again.

“You know when you’re little and you get hurt or you’re scared and you run to your mom because she knows what to do and she makes you feel safe?” Derek seemed to be ignoring the blank look that Stiles shot him because he continued with, “It’s something like that.”

Stiles cleared his throat, “So what you’re saying, well what I think you’re saying is that you feel _safe._ With me?”

Derek didn’t look at him but he nodded his head.

Stiles barely resisted the urge to growl in frustration, “How can you feel safe with me if you don’t trust me?”

Derek looked back at him, “I don’t trust anyone.”

“And yet you feel _safe with me?”_

“Can we just drop this?”

“Derek,” Stiles says shaking his head. “That is the biggest load of crap I have ever heard. How can you feel safe with someone if you don’t even trust them?”

“I feel safe with you because I trust that you won’t kill me while I’m incapable of defending myself!”

And that shut Stiles up.

Derek just started the car again and drove.

Stiles looked out the windshield and tried to remember all of the times that Derek came to him while he was hurt. None of the times he crawled in through his window had he felt the urge to kill him. And those times that he was hurt, he was more worried and too busy trying to help him not die than to device his demise.

So then he was actually certifiably insane, because he was pretty sure someone normal would’ve wanted to kill the big bad wolf instead of helping him heal his wounds. God, he was as bad as Belle who didn’t run away and patched up the Beast when he was hurt by those wolves. And did he just compare himself and Derek to a Disney movie?

He shook his head and looked back at Derek, who was once again tapping on the wheel, and once again it coincided with his heartbeat, but from the way that Derek was glaring through the windshield as he drove, Stiles didn’t think that his questioning was going to go well. Derek might just throw him out of the car and leave him to walk home.

Because for all that he says he feels safe around Stiles, he knew the sort of person that Derek was. He was a loner and had this whole I’ll-kill-you-if-you-look-at-me-wrong vibe, and being vulnerable around someone wasn’t probably in his Top Ten Thing I Likes to Do list. It’s probably the number one in his Top Ten Things I Hate to Do list. And he was probably going to drop Stiles home and leave and then work out his anger on some unsuspecting tree because he was a manly man and manly men didn’t do feelings.

Stiles barely resisted the urge to call him out on his bullshit.

So he just bit down on his tongue to stop the words from flowing and looked out the windshield too.

It was a few more minutes before they reached his house. And the patrol car wasn’t there, which meant his dad was either still on the road looking for Derek or in the office. Meaning he probably wasn’t going to come home until late, again.

Stiles felt the urge to do something nice for him, because it was sort of his fault that his dad was being over worked.

He looked over at Derek who still hadn’t said anything, “Aren’t you coming in?”

Derek didn’t look at him, “I have to take care of something first.”

Stiles nodded his head muttering _bullshit_ under his breath and he got out of the car before Derek could say anything and slammed the door shut.

Derek didn’t even wait until he had stepped back to pull away as if the Devil himself was at his heels.

Stiles raised his hand to his mouth and shook his head before turning and heading inside of the house.

**_1.10: Co-Captain_ **

Stiles remembers when he was twelve and his dad got his first big case as Sheriff where he was going after this murderer, and Stiles and his mom where curled together on top of the bed in his parent’s room, and they were watching TV, and Stiles kept pretending that he couldn’t see his mom picking up her phone every few minutes to check if she had somehow missed a text or a call or something. And he could feel how tense she was, and how worried she was, and she was trying to keep it away from him by faking smiles and patting his head.

Stiles sort of felt like he knew where she was coming from now. He had tried to keep himself busy and did research on wolves and their strange habits, and what he found left him more questions than answers so he’s stopped and sat down on top of his bed with his pillow hugged to his chest looking at his phone as if he could stare it into making Derek call him or something. He had taken Scott home after what had happened in the locker room, and he felt his skin crawl because Derek was working _with_ Peter. Peter who was the Alpha. Peter who scared Stiles about a hundred times more than Derek did.

And while Stiles understood that this was his uncle the only family that he had left, it still didn’t justify all of those murders.

He had been worried that Derek was badly hurt, because he’d seen Peter just haul him and throw him into walls and send him hurtling in through glass and Stiles felt himself flinch in sympathy.

He had run away because there was nothing else that he could do. He would just be a distraction, someone else that Derek had to protect besides himself. And Stiles was no one’s burden.

He’d seen Derek bounce back from worst. He just hoped that his uncle wouldn’t rip him apart like he did to his sister.

He was part relieved and part furious when he found out that Derek was okay, but working with Peter. At least he wasn’t dead. There was just something about Peter that rubbed Stiles in the wrong way.

It wasn’t that his face was half burnt. It was the way that he looked at Stiles, like if he knew him, or like if he knew what he was to Derek.

Stiles shook his head and tried not to think about that. His head still felt a little bit tender from when Derek had slammed him down on his steering wheel, which was an overreaction. Stiles knew it was horrible to do that to Danny, to use Derek’s body to tempt him to trace the call. But they needed it, and Stiles wasn’t above coercion to get the job done. He’d done it before.

He rubbed his forehead scowling a bit.

“I still maintain that you deserved that.”

Stiles nearly manages not to bite through his tongue. He sighs letting go of the pillow and turning his scowl on Derek.

Derek just leans against the window sill not coming closer, “I assume you’ve talked to Scott already.”

Stiles nodded his head.

“I bet you think I owe you some sort of explanation, but I don’t.” Derek looked at him and it was a bit hostile, “I don’t owe you anything, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t scream in frustration but it was a near thing.

“Fine,” Stiles says standing up and striding over. “Don’t owe me anything then. Just go away and don’t come back. I don’t need any more things keeping me up at night.”

Derek took a deep breath and his eyes widened a bit, “You were worried about me?”

Stiles reacted without thinking and only remembered that he’d nearly broken his hand the first time he’d punched Derek, when pain exploded along his knuckled jarring his wrist. He howled gathering his injured hand to his chest.

Derek stepped forward and Stiles was pleased to see that there was blood on his mouth, “Let me see.”

“No,” Stiles stepped back. “Don’t touch me you fucking asshole. You come in here spouting that you don’t owe me anything. And I don’t care about that. I understand why you went with your uncle, you jerk! I was worried that he’d hurt you, not that you were going over to the dark side!”

Derek looked suitable chastened and he held his hand out, “Let me see.”

Stiles let out a breath and placed his hand in Derek’s wincing when he spread his fingers. Derek carefully grabbed his hand around the wrist and brushed his fingers softly over his knuckles, “I don’t think they’re broken. But it might swell a bit.”

He maneuvered Stiles until he was sitting down on his bed and reached under the bed for the first aid kit where Stiles had started to keep it after their talk last night.

He took out the roll of gauze and wrapped Stiles wrist and knuckles a bit tight before taping it off and bringing the wrapped hand up to his mouth. He breathed over it and rubbed it against his face, and Stiles froze completely.

Derek let go of his hand then.

Stiles shook his head, “You’re unbelievable, you know that.”

Derek shook his head. And stood up.

“You may act like you’re this lone wolf who doesn’t care, but you do care. You care about me. And that scares you doesn’t it?”

Derek glared, “Shut up, and go to sleep.”

“I did some research,” Stiles continued because he doesn’t know how to quit while he’s ahead. “And I think you’re lying. I don’t think it’s the feeling safe around me thing. I think you just like me and don’t know how to admit it.”

Derek growled and Stiles saw his eyes spark blue, “Listen very carefully to me. I may feel safe around you, but that’s only because you’re too _weak_ to kill me. So don’t go getting any delusions of grandeur.”

And then he was out through the window, leaving Stiles with his bandaged hand and bruised ego.

**_1.11: Formality_ **

Stiles dreamt that he was trapped and he couldn’t get out. He could feel shackles around his wrists and he tried to pull at them but he couldn’t get free. He was scared, so scared. Scared because the thing that killed his mom was coming after him, and he could smell _it_. He pulled harder, but he couldn’t break free.

He couldn’t see anything. His vision was so hazy like if he was trying to look through smoke. But he could feel _it_ near.

And then his whole body jerked and he felt like if he was being electrocuted. Shocks went through him making him scream and leaving him breathless. It felt like if his whole body was on fire. Like if he was burning from the inside out, and then it stopped. And he tried to catch his breath before it was starting again sending shock waves through him, and he would’ve been dead. Should’ve been dead, but he wasn’t.

And it hurt.

And it tore him apart.

And the only thing keeping him holding on was the thought that maybe; just maybe he’d get to see _him_ again.

He gritted his teeth and bore the pain because he deserved it.

It was his fault all of it was his fault. The fire was his fault!

If he had been there, he could’ve stopped it!

He could have saved her! _Them! He could have saved them all!_

And then the pain was so intense that his whole body seemed to go into spasms, and he felt as though his last breath was about to leave him, and he was choking on his own spit, _on his own blood!_

And then he was sat up straight and scrambled to the bathroom reaching just in time to hurl into the toilet.

He coughed and leaned his head against the bathtub taking deep breaths before flushing the toilet and brushing his teeth.

He checked on his dad before heading back to his room.

He didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

(He had the same dream the night after as well.)

**_1.12: Code Breaker_ **

Stiles should feel better, safer because the threat of the Alpha was gone, and they were supposed to be safe.

But the words _I’m the Alpha now_ seemed to reverberate through his head bouncing beside the image of Lydia lying unconscious in a hospital bed joined with the words _You may believe you’re telling me the truth, but you are lying to yourself._

And Stiles had been tempted so, so tempted, but he couldn’t. Not from Peter.

And that thought stopped him short because, if _Derek…_

No, he was not going there, not even in his own head, because somehow Derek would know and Stiles wasn’t ready to tell anybody what had happened between him and Peter just yet. He doubted that he could tell anyone.

It had been two days after the night of the dance, and while Stiles was freaking out about Lydia not waking up and having nightmares about Peter Hale and thinking way too much about Derek, Scott was probably canoodling with Allison on top of her roof or something. It made Stiles wonder what good were the hunters for if they couldn’t even tell that one of their own was hiding a werewolf under her bed.

Stiles wanted to talk to his best friend, but he spent most of his time now-a-days either with Allison or thinking about Allison, and Stiles was happy that he was in love and all of that, but what he needed right now was someone to talk to who knew what had happened.

He briefly considered Jackson, but nixed the idea because Jackson was a douche who was probably going to ignore him and pretend that he had no idea what Stiles was talking about.

If he was being honest with himself, the one that he wanted to talk to was Derek. He had so many questions.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to see Derek. 

But he wanted to know what had happened to him while he was held captive. Had he been tortured? Stiles felt shivers run down his spine as he remembered the nightmares that plagued him the two nights that Derek had been under Kate Argent’s care. And it made him wonder if they were connected.

He leaned back on top of his bed and shut his eyes. He would’ve been sleeping in the Waiting Room at the Hospital but Momma McCall had put her foot down and told him to go home and take a nice long shower and have a good night’s sleep and then he could come back tomorrow or else she was going to ban him from the hospital.

And Stiles had done as he was told.

And now he was freshly showered and in his bed and he couldn’t stop thinking. He wishes he could just disconnect his brain for just a few seconds.

This is why it takes him by complete surprise when suddenly he’s being hauled up by his t-shirt and being pushed against the wall right next to his bed. He takes a second to see red eyes and freezes before he realizes that this is _Derek_ and not Peter. And then Derek growls low in his throat and it sounds more animalistic than any of the other growls he’s ever made in Stiles presence.

And then he’s being kissed.

Well if you can call it that.

It was more like a fight than a kiss, but there was tongue and sucking involved and Stiles tasted blood in his mouth, and he could barely reciprocate because Derek pushed him harder into the wall and then wrapped his fingers around his neck tilted his head back and Stiles felt the claws resting against his skin ready to tear him open if necessary and the thought really shouldn’t have been making him want to rub against Derek, but it did. And he did.

And Derek pushed his legs apart with his knees slotting their hips together and he rubbed against Stiles, and Stiles felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he opened his legs wider and licked against one of the fangs in Derek’s mouth and urged him to move faster because when he wasn’t having nightmares, he was dreaming of this, of Derek and him and _sex._ And all he wanted was to lead them towards the bed, but Derek seemed to be pretty comfortable rutting against Stiles and pushing him harder into the wall.

And Stiles wrapped his fingers around his biceps and hooked a leg around Derek’s thigh bringing their bodies flush together, and he bit down on Derek’s lip hard, and Derek’s fingers moved from his neck to his wall and Stiles was pretty sure that that sound was his wall giving in to Derek’s fingers, but he couldn’t be concerned with that. Not when Derek pressed harder and moved his hips faster and they weren't kissing anymore just sort of panting into each other's mouths with the occasional lick. And Stiles moved his hands to wrap them around his shoulders and then he was coming in his shorts and pressing closer to Derek and he was pretty sure that by the way that Derek spasmed against him that he was coming too.

His hands went back around his neck and this time there were no claws, and when Derek bit down lightly on his lip it was with human teeth, and this time the kiss was slower and more explorative, and Stiles still tasted blood.

Derek pulled back and his eyes were completely normal if not blown wide and his chest was still heaving from the panting and Stiles was no better.

And still all he wanted was to pull him back with him to his bed and really lose his virginity. But Derek just picked him up and walked to his bed and then dropped him down on it before lying down next to him and wrapping his arms around Stiles.  

Stiles closed his eyes and felt for the first time in a really long time like if he was safe.

The last thing he heard before he was dead to the world was, “Good night, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys wouldn't let me end this any other way! And I tried to stop what was happening from happening! I'm privately dubbing the next part of this series "Scott and Allison aren't the only star-crossed lovers" because of reasons.


End file.
